Penis Pic Game

A reader who wishes to remain anonymous emails:

Big fan of your work.

I saw this exchange on FB, and I couldn’t resist snapping some screen shots.

“R” is an early-thirties female. Commenters J, J, and E are all males.

When I read the initial post, I couldn’t help but picture a cocky asshole, annoyed with her presumption, and deciding the penis pic was the best way to shut it down.

After “E” suggests something similar, her story changes a bit IMO. But I’ll leave the interpretation to you and your readers.

Here is the exchange:

Frist of all, props to the guys “J”, “J” and “E” for handling this whiny broad with biting humor, and to the original penis pic sender for offending her sensibilities. I like the last suggestion from “J” that she should return fire with a pic of her vagina. For some reason I cannot fathom, I doubt she’ll consider that option.

When “E” implies there must be a good reason penis pic man stood her up and “nuked” their conversation, she changes her story in an obvious way that makes her look better. It’s funny how often women badly contradict themselves in a web of lies when their sexual market value is disparaged. Recall Maxim #77:

Maxim #77: Women will screech louder the closer your words get to damaging or exposing vulnerabilities in their sexual market value.

Penis pic game justifiably gets a bad rap as a seduction technique, but it’s under-appreciated as an effective means of belittling a haughty bitch. It is the ultimate shit test, because there really is no answer to a picture of a penis on your phone. Even as a serious pickup technique, I think it could work on really twisted, slutty girls who crave the most intense asshole experience the cock carousel can provide.

To properly run penis pic game, you should be aware of the basic rules of engagement:

• You don’t have to send a pic of your own penis. Choose from any number of porn star penises on the web. Or, if you really want to deliver a powerful message, text her a pic of a penis maimed with disease and pus-dripping open sores. Bonus points if you send a black peen to a white SWPL girl.
• If you send a pic of your own penis with authenticity in mind, make sure you are packing heat. You’ll have to be honest with yourself. Treat penis pics like any other text game: does it pass the Jumbotron test? If your penis is flashed on a Jumbotron in front of thousands of spectators, would you beam with pride? Or hide in shame? It kind of kills the purpose of penis pic game if she shares it with her friends for a good laugh.
• Caveat to the above point: A pic of a micropenis from a medical reference manual would be funny. It’s like saying “this is all you’re worth, honey.”
• Send a flaccid penis. An erection will make her wonder if you get excited at the thought of texting her. A flaccid penis says all the right things to a bitch you want to put in place. Namely, “You are not woman enough to marginally bestir my loins.” Also, you aren’t a gay man texting another gay man.
• Include the balls some way. If you have a robust, assertive sack that frames your penis like a museum piece, this won’t be hard to do. There’s just something extra demeaning about frank *and* beans.
• Shoot from below. This is a well-known trick that photographers use to emphasize largeness and dominance. Plus, it’s been shown that women like looking up at men. Extend the honor to your junk! Lighting is important, too. When lit from below, the penis will have that malevolent look, like a flashlight under the chin.

I would run penis pic game, but a phone with a 24 inch screen hasn’t been invented yet.

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Thinking Like A Woman

I was at a house party noticing something I expect to see at these sorts of events: dudes not knowing what the fuck they are doing with women. (Proof that the practice of game is not making many inroads into general circulation.) Every single guy who was macking on a girl was telegraphing in the worst way possible his sheer delight to be speaking with her. Some of the gross errors of pickup judgement I observed:

• Laser-like focus of his eyes on her eyes.
• Leaning into her (in some cases the girl actually leaned back, like she was trying to escape his bad breath).
• Constant smiling.
• Rapid-fire talking.
• Interrupting her to vociferously agree with whatever she was saying.
• Too much laughing, and laughing too hard at ostensibly unfunny female jokes.
• Telling long-winded stories.
• Getting a laugh from her, and then repeating his brilliant joke for good measure.
• Nervous body tics (rubbing of fingertips on glasses, shifting of feet, crossing and uncrossing of arms, scratching of ears and noses).
• Relying too heavily on unsubtle sexual innuendo.
• Constantly asking if she needed a new drink.
• Excessive head nodding.
• Asking a lot of questions.
• Dutifully answering her questions.
• Never touching her.

Now none of these men were socialy awkward losers. They were all normal men with well-rounded lives. Solid, salt of the earth dudes. The kind of guys women claim to want to date. On paper, they were catches. But as we all know, credentialist paper mentality is why so many men fail with women. Rip that paper up, because it is not what women really want; it is what they say they want to make their mothers happy. And because women’s own hindbrains are a mystery to even them.

The general impression one would get from watching all these nascent courtship dances is CHASING. The men were doing all the chasing.

Chase, chase, chase, chase, chase, chase, chase…… aaaallll the way home. Alone.

Men, pull it together. The way to seduce women is by redirecting them to CHASE YOU. You do this by exploiting their natural and universal female desire to your advantage. This is what game is all about. If you act like the men I saw at this party, you are running no game at all. And no game may as well be anti-game, because its effects on women are the same — bored, dry pussy. The only difference between zero game and being actively repulsive is the speed which her pussy snaps shut. The destination is the same.

Remember the fundamentals of game recently discussed here at the Chateau:

1. Be aloof. (Amused mastery)
2. Don’t be insecure. (Irrational self-confidence)
3. Dehumanize and objectify women. (Do not put any pussy on a pedestal)

Re-read those fundamentals out loud. Taken together, what are they really saying?

“I am the prize. I do not seek the approval of any woman. She will, instead, want to seek my approval.”

Or, in simpler caveman language:

“She chases me.”

Yes, this thinking turns conventional wisdom on its head. Yes, it takes a huge dump on the evolutionarily derived instincts that govern the behavior of men and women. But as practitioners of the crimson arts, we are not here to abide conventional wisdom. Nor are we here to meekly march to the beat of our Darwinian impulses. We are here to learn how to seduce women… efficiently, completely, utterly.

The first step to getting a woman to chase you is to think like a woman. Only when you have put yourself into the mind of woman will the game that you need to seduce them begin to make any sense to you. Deep empathy — not the cheap bleeding heart kind but the kind that you struggle hard to attain so that it may redound to your maximum benefit — is the ultimate inner game that serves as the bedrock upon which the rest of the razzle-dazzle game will flow effortlessly.

In fact, this may be the best explanation of the meta-fundamental precept that underlies the above fundamentals:

Think like a woman.

Get in the mind of your adversary. (And make no mistake, men and women are, underneath the romantic tapestry, adversaries in the mating market. We have contradictory reproductive goals as nature designed.) Know what she needs to feel desire, what she loathes, how she will react before she does, and what her frame of mind is when men hit on her. Once you have successfully infiltrated one woman’s mind, you will have supremacy over all women’s minds.

When you think like a woman, you are imagining… no, you are accepting as a given… what it’s like to mercilessly judge the smallest details of a girl. What it’s like to be one foot in, one foot out with every girl you deign to talk to. What it’s like to cast a jaundiced eye at every girl before deciding she is worth more of your time. What it’s like to make silent demands of girls that you wouldn’t make of your male buddies. What it’s like to keep your options open until she has won you over. What it’s like to screen a girl, to qualify her, to shit test her, to tease her without worrying about giving offense, to refuse to backpedal from any offense given, to have an inner conversation with yourself *while she is talking to you* about whether she meets your ideal, to call her out in a good-natured manner on any of her bullshit, to seriously doubt her attractiveness until proven otherwise, to lean away from her when she is talking, to refrain from laughing if her joke falls flat, to notice her nervousness, to be laconic while she tries to impress you, to be comfortable with silences because it is her job to keep the conversation alive, to act noncommittal, to disagree with her occasionally, to glance furtively around the room every so often, to end conversations first, to happily hold court with other girls joining your conversation…

… in short, to make her dance to your tune.

Truth is, it is the tune she prefers to dance to above all others.

The day will come when you will have completed the merging of your mind with the neural network of womanhood. When that day comes — fully entwined, unable to return to  the one-dimensional, solipsistic man you once were — your game will be second nature. You will have transcended the dictates of crass materialist evolution and the straitjacket of social mores, and like magic the gates of vagina will open to you.

And if some numbnuts tells you it’s gay to think like a woman, you can ask him how many times he got laid talking about football and retrieving drinks for girls.

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The Assange “””Rape”””: A Case Of Spurned Groupies

So let me see if I have this straight.

Four months ago, fame-whore Anna Ardin had a few telephone and internet conversations with WikiLeaks badboy Julian Assange, a man she had previously only known as a name in the news.

A few telephone calls with an alpha male she didn’t know from Adam is all it took for her vagina to vibrate like a tuning fork. She invited him to stay at her unattended (!) place in Stockholm. She would be away on business.

When he arrived in Stockholm, the radical libertarian Assange “held court” at a local pub with like-minded admirers. The vagina tingles reached critical mass.

Assange’s alphaness must have been so powerful it was telepathic, because Ardin picked up on the disturbance in the electromagnetic spectrum from far away and returned home a day earlier than she had planned. SETI could not locate an extraterrestrial signal so precisely.

Assange was still at her place when she returned. She decided he could continue to stay. Scientists are baffled.

Within mere hours of returning and meeting this man in the flesh for the first time in her life, Ardin and Assange had sex. She is not a total slut, though. She would like you to know that they had dinner beforehand.

During sex, the condom broke. Both confirm this.

The two lovebirds were happy and friendly the next morning, as can be discerned by the fact that Ardin threw a party for him that night.

At a seminar that day, woman #2, Sofia Wilen, felt a strong rush of tingles for Assange because she read about him in the papers.

Wilen set out to meet Assange, by stalking him introducing herself:

[Sofia] would later tell police that she had first seen Assange on television a few weeks before. She had found him ‘interesting, brave and admirable’. As a result, she began to follow the WikiLeaks saga, and when she discovered that he was due to visit Stockholm she contacted the Brotherhood Movement to volunteer to help out at the seminar. Although her offer was not taken up, she decided to attend the seminar anyway and took a large number of photos of Assange during his 90-minute talk.

Lesson: A woman will move heaven and earth to meet an alpha male. When a man does the same thing to meet a woman he likes, he is slapped with a restraining order.

Assange and Wilen went to lunch together with Assange’s friends.

They flirted.

The attraction was mutual. Scientists, still baffled, wonder how an ugly but infamous mofo like Assange could be considered attractive by a cute babe.

After lunch, Assange and Wilen went to see a movie. But Assange had to part early, to attend the party that Ardin was throwing for him that night.

After the party, the future rape accuser Anna Ardin Tweeted that she was “with the coolest people” and that she felt “amazing”.

There were other Tweets of this nature that suggest a state of mind very unlike what one would imagine a recent rape victim would possess.

A couple days later, Sofia meets Assange in Stockholm. She then pays for his train ticket to her home in another Swedish town. Scientists, now knee-deep in bafflement, wonder why a young woman would pay the way of an ugly and poor but infamous libertardian badboy claiming he can’t get money because the CIA tracks his credit card transactions. Sofia’s hamster is about to collapse from exhaustion.

Maxim #21: Betas pay, alphas split, super alphas profit.

Later that night, the two self-satisfied, egomaniacal “activists” make sweet rebellious love as the world burns down around them. Assange wore a condom at night, but raw dogged it in the morning.

Sofia Wilen would later claim that she had asked him to wear a condom in the morning, but he refused. She opened her legs anyway.

On Tuesday, the following day, Wilen and Assange had lunch. She paid for his train ticket again.

Assange forgets rule #1 of successful womanizers: Do NOT concurrently bed mutual acquaintances, particularly those who are proud to call themselves feminists. Wilen calls Ardin, and the two women conspire a false rape charge to exact revenge against the man who treated the purity of their love so cavalierly.

At the police station, the women are interviewed by a female police officer. Charges follow. No, not charges of “cruel and unusual fits of jealousy” but charges of rape and sexual molestation against Assange.

Assange, a figure of ambivalence at best, has as a result of his recent arrest in Britain, epicenter of self-loathing, self-annihilating Westerners, earned street cred with REAL liberty loving men.

What scores of powerful governments around the world have been unable to do, two spurned groupies and a female police officer, along with the backing of the feminist establishment, have been able to orchestrate unhindered.

******

I think that’s the story. What can we learn from this? Let me be blunt.

If Assange is convicted of rape,
then we are all rapists now.

Every man who’s ever had a condom break, or who had condomless sex with a woman who agreed to the sex despite her misgivings, or who has slept with more than one woman in a weekend, is now a rapist. By these standards, half the men in the world would be locked up on rape charges. This is the logical conclusion of feminist thought. I’m sure they secretly love the idea.

Feminists and feminist enablers (you know who you are, you pasty-skinned sunken-chest droopy cartoon muscled faggy-faced white knighters who wear T-shirts that say “this is what a feminist looks like”), here is word from the Committee of Helpful Reminders:

Sex with a woman willingly spreading for a man despite his refusal to wear a condom, and then feeling regret about her sluttiness the next day, is not rape. It is not even rape in emasculated Sweden. Similarly, getting pumped and dumped is not sexual molestation. Hope this helps.

Anna Ardin’s ego was bruised, and her sluttiness broadcast to all her friends. As a result, she set out to seek vengeance against the skirt-chasing man she fell in love with over a heady late summer weekend. She even had a website devoted to plans for exacting just such a revenge scenerio.

Earlier this year, [Anna] is reported to have posted a telling entry on her website, which she has since removed. But a copy has been retrieved and widely circulated on the internet.

Entitled ‘7 Steps to Legal Revenge’, it explains how women can use courts to get their own back on unfaithful lovers.

Step 7 says: ‘Go to it and keep your goal in sight. Make sure your victim suffers just as you did.’

In a normal, sane society with a firm grip on what constitutes fairness and justice, hypercunty feminism-soaked revenge fantasists would have to consign themselves to acting out their aggression in their fucked-up heads. The only people who would suffer from their delusions would be the hapless also-ran beta boyfriends competing with the lingering memories of badboy alpha cock like Assange’s piercing the grateful labia of these heartbroken shrikes.

But we in the West don’t live in a sane society. Not anymore. Rabid attack cunts like Ardin and Wilen can now see their revenge fantasies breathed into life, aided and abetted by the feminism-industrial complex, cultural PC-ism, an allied media, and women in positions of influence where their natural inclination toward favoring social cohesion and grrlpower at the expense of justice makes a mockery of the institutions they claim to represent.

By the way, is there anything more repulsive than a “Christian feminist”, as Anna Ardin calls herself? At least you can enjoy a piece of ass with regular secular feminists, which helps makes their inane little opinions tolerable. But a Christian feminist is the worst of both worlds — teeth-gnashingly insipid and prudish. Wow, sign me up! Anyhow, it’s been my observation that self-professed Christian feminists are some of the worst man-hating cunts alive, truly devoid of any sense of empathy or even a rudimentary grasp of fairness. Anna Ardin, in all her glorious hamsterized self-rationalizing hypocrisy, fits the mold perfectly. This is how the Daily Mail describes her job in life:

While a research assistant at a local university she had not only been the protegee of a militant feminist academic, but held the post of ‘campus sexual equity officer’. Fighting male discrimination in all forms, including sexual harassment, was her forte.

If there is something more pointless to do with one’s life, I can’t think of it. The obvious pointlessness explains some of the resentment that people like Ardin nurse against the outside world, and against men specifically. The humanities departments of academia throughout the West have turned into mills for churning out ignorant, man-loathing fascists who envy and hate the inherent freedom of male desire. They are pinkshirts on the prowl for “incorrect thinking”, who see rape in the frosting on a birthday cake. Imagine a high heel stomping on a nutsack, forever. Why do men put up with this shit? Probably because they think assuming a posture of prostration will get them laid. Nominal alphas may have supported feminism in the past as a quick and painless route to easy sex, but today they are in the gun sights as much as any beta. To win at this war, you need true insight into the female mind.

Sweden leads the way in this fembot festival of absurdity, but the other Western (white) nations are not far behind. China will catapult to superpower status this century, not least because they have their heads on straight and see modern feminism for the productivity and innovation sapping insanity it is.

I’ve written before that false rape accusers ought to be punished the same as actual rapists, with jail time. It is as evil as real rape. Their lies destroy lives. Tossing them in jail for years will send a valuable message to women everywhere that they will not escape the consequences of smearing a man who didn’t fulfill their romantic expectations.

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Polyamory Is Disguised Polygamy

The Man Who Was once wrote:

The basic problem with the Sex at Dawn thesis is that I just don’t see how it gets around two problems. First, men who get more than their share of sex and who exclude other men will pass on more of their genes. Second, women who only mate with the top males will get higher quality genes for their offspring which means they are more likely to survive and reproduce. Given those Darwinian incentives I don’t see how polyamoury is anything other than a disguised version of polygamy.

To get around this problem one would have to posit some kind of group selection, but that opens up a whole thorny nest of problems. While I find some of the group selectionist ideas of D.S. Wilson rather intriguing, especially as regards religion, I remain extremely skeptical, as the objections to group selection put forward by George Williams and others are really quite devastating. There would have to be some sort of really strong mechanism for punishing cheaters and equally distributing the sex for it to work and I just haven’t seen any evidence put forward of such a mechanism in our evolutionary past.

I’ve cast a jaundiced eye at the Sex at Dawn thesis in this post. The commenter above is onto something. Polyamory — multiple and simultaneous sexual relationships — means, in practice, a few high value dudes hording all the pussy. Multitudinously and concurrently. Polyamory cheerleaders, like Christopher Ryan, note the shape of our penis heads and go on to weave a happy utopia of free love where all the men and all the women get their rocks off whenever and however they wish, like the bonobos (who, by the way, are territorially squeezed compared to their more prodigiously successful chimp cousins). But he has to ignore female hypergamous mate choice and male jealousy to concoct this vision of a peaceful hedonist paradise.

The reality would be considerably darker; women would still want to bang the alpha, leaving the beta male out in the cold, clawing and scratching for rode-worn scraps, but now shackled with the obligation to help provide for kids that are likely not his own. What then happens is a complete breakdown in male investment in women and families. Men spend their working hours battling it out in vast, unproductive “Who’s the Sexiest?” competitions for privileged access to a veritable harem of vaj. If you think this is a recipe for creating and sustaining an advanced modern society filled with creature comforts, I have a grass hut somewhere in the Congo to sell you.

How, in a polyamorous society, are you going to arrange things so that women dispense their pussy equitably among high and low status men? As noted by the commenter, this would require some major group selection modulated behavior to be workable; a woman would fuck for the survival of the tribe, instead of the survival of her offspring. That would be awfully magnanimous of her! It’s like arranging a society where men are happy to boff fat, old and ugly chicks with equal attention to romantic detail that they give the hot young babes.

If anything, a culturally endorsed polyamorous dating market that virtually guaranteed a steady provider payout for disloyal, promiscuous women and their bastard spawn would help resolve the female tension for male commitment and good male genes in favor of the latter. Betas would be sexually shunned even more than they are now. LJBFing and undignified platonic beta orbiting would reach epic proportions. This blog would be classified as treason against the state and an incitement to rebellion and be shut down.

A happy hippie free love egalitarian commune it would not be. Widespread polyamorous practice where childrearing is done by the village and all men, uncertain of paternity, contribute resources to the well-being of the single moms and their unholy bastard squirtage, will not convince women to equally distribute their sexual favors among the men. Just the opposite; it would liberate women to single-mindedly pursue the few alphas in their purview, knowing full well that a beta blood-latticed safety net exists to protect them from destitution. In other words, socially-sanctioned and state-supported polyamory lets women have their cake and eat it, too. The only trade-off is that they will have to share scarce high value lovers with other women. Yet as any tour of a college campus will demonstrate, most women in their prime would prefer to share an alpha stud than extract commitment from a beta schlub. Until the wall looms, that is. Heh.

But why speculate? We now have evidence of what happened to polyamorous early human ancestors in the distant past — they went extinct.

The team found that the fossil finger ratios of Neanderthals, and early members of the human species, were lower than most living humans, which suggests that they had been exposed to high levels of prenatal androgens. This indicates that early humans were likely to be more competitive and promiscuous than people today. […]

Emma Nelson, from the University of Liverpool’s School of Archaeology, Classics and Egyptology, explains: “It is believed that prenatal androgens affect the genes responsible for the development of fingers, toes and the reproductive system. We have recently shown that promiscuous primate species have low index to ring finger ratios, while monogamous species have high ratios. We used this information to estimate the social behaviour of extinct apes and hominins. Although the fossil record is limited for this period, and more fossils are needed to confirm our findings, this method could prove to be an exciting new way of understanding how our social behaviour has evolved.”

Until we can reengineer hypergamy out of women’s hindbrains, advocacy for unconstrained polyamory in all but the most backward societies is DOA.

So what does nonviolent, consensual polyamory look like in modern real life when it’s purposefully tried? (No, it’s not SWPL. Even in that hothouse culture the chicks swarm to the top hipsters.) Think aging beta boomers milking their last ounce of testosterone by swapping barren hag wives. It’s best summed up in the following Chateau maxim:

Maxim #109: Consensual polyamory is a contrived hookup service for undesirable sexual market rejects.

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Why Women Get Cheated On

Here is a woman writing to an advice columnist about her predilection for dating men who wind up cheating on her.

Dear Bossy: I’m writing to you with hope that you can help me shed some light on why things happen in my personal life, and what i can do to resolve those things making me unhappy.

I feel really happy and fulfilled in all areas outside of my love life – career, family, friends, sports etc etc.  It’s all going great and I’m healthy and confident and good.  However, the last two years, i’ve had multiple experiences in my romantic life that make me question my own judgement and leave me feeling, well, worthless and unloved.

Let me take you through the details.

Two years ago, i caught my partner sleeping with another girl in our bed.  I moved out and broke it off with him.

Last year, i met someone i felt a real connection with.  He was warm and intelligent and thoughtful, and i really felt good around him.  I heard gossip from other people about him cheating, but when i confronted him to ask him why people would say such things, he assured me he was devoted to me.  Several months later, he confessed that he had another girlfriend, not just me.  I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach.  I cut all ties with him, and looking back, i know that i had my part to play in the situation, because, just like last time when there had been signs, i ignored them.  Not because i didn’t want them to be true, but because i guess i just trusted blindly. You know the saying, a liar won’t believe anyone else?  Well, i guess being someone who wouldn’t cheat made me ignorant of the idea that others do.

It took another 6 months before i met someone i was attracted to, who i had started off being friends with.  I just felt like a casual fling, he was not my type at all romantically, and I advised him that while I enjoyed his friendship, I wasn’t able to offer him anything more. One night this guy sent me a message saying he had just been on a date, and that he’d had an amazing time, but the girl in question wouldn’t have sex on the first date….so could he come over?  Again, I acknowledge my part in this by wanting a casual fling, but I guess I thought one could be conducted with dignity and respect.

Fast forward another couple of months, I got to know this really lovely guy at work.  I was just friends with him for a long time, not good friends, but i felt i knew enough about him.  I’ve seen him take care of another colleague who was sick, he has photos of his nieces and nephews on his desk, and he gets physically uneasy when one of our male colleagues makes inappropriate comments.  I guess what I’m saying is that this time around, I took the time to try to pick up on cues that tell me what a man’s really like before dating him.  Anyhow, I went to lunch a few times with him, and I really felt he was genuine and compassionate and interested in me.  We went on a couple of dates, and they were really great.  We went out for a coffee after work and talked for four hours.  I had been very cautious about dating given my previous experiences, but felt that he was trustworthy and honest.

Two days later, my other colleague, who had recently broken up with his work girlfriend, came to me and asked me to coffee (not knowing i was seeing this colleague – i wanted to keep it quiet at such an early stage).  During coffee, my friend broke down and told me that his ex had told him she’s started seeing someone else….yep, you guessed it, my new guy.

Bossy, I feel like I’m a hamster in a wheel, running on the same path making the same mistakes over and over again.  I don’t want to make these mistakes.  I thought I’d learned from the first two cheaters, but it’s becoming a pattern that is hurting so much, and I want to break it.

To an extent, I hold these guys responsible for their own behaviour, but deep in my heart I feel like this is happening because 1. I am not picking up on signals that i should, and 2. I am sending out signals that i am deserving of this.

Bossy, I’m swearing off men for a little while until I get my head straight.  At the moment I just feel too fragile and too suspicious, which is definitely not a good mix for a potential future!

I guess I’m just seeking your advice on a couple of things:
Firstly, how can i better screen guys?  What’s wrong with me that the men i’ve dated in the last two years consider me just discardable and unworthy of honesty and fidelity?  How can I paint myself in a diffferent light?

Secondly, I feel like dirt.  I feel worthless and discardable… some of these guys have gone on to be in successful relationships, so it feels to me like they have the capacity to respect, but not to respect me.  How can I overcome these feelings?  What can I do to feel good about myself again?

Finally, when it’s time for me to be ready to date again, how can I develop a balance between being jaded and cynical, and being naive?

I know I’m imperfect.  I can learn a lot and I accept my role in these situations.  I just feel so used and useless right now, and I don’t know how to fix it.
Thank you,
Cheated

“I feel like I’m a hamster in a wheel, running on the same path making the same mistakes over and over again.”

You don’t say! Even women recognize their gender is afflicted with a rationalization hamster.

Props to the guy asking for a booty call because his other woman wouldn’t put out on the first date. Balls, my friends.

I’m not including “Bossy’s” reply, because it was stupid — typical womanese, full of blame-shifting and platitudes, signifying nothing.

Here is the truth. Women get cheated on for four reasons, three of which they are complicit in their own betrayal.

1. They have stopped catering to a man’s desire. Women who choose to get fat or withhold sex are ripe candidates for being cheated on. A man who is driven to cheating by his fat, frigid wife has my sympathies.
2. They tingle for assholes. About 1/3 of women — usually the hottest chicks — have an irresistible urge to copulate with assholes, jerks, thugs and other assorted aloof cads. (Another 1/3 are susceptible to the asshole’s charms but are occasionally capable of eschewing the blind cravings of their vaginas.) Naturally, the assholes cheat. These women then cry foul, but they have invited betrayal into their lives. Their pain was prophesied the moment they spread their legs.
3. They shoot out of their league. I would tell a woman: You want to date an alpha one or more points higher than you? Prepare to be betrayed at some future date, said date which will be sooner rather than later if he’s considerably higher value than what you could be expected to get. More than a few women are OK with this trade-off.
4. Men like variety. Women have no control over this. Men are programmed to enjoy the hunt, and to experience pleasure from a multitude of pussy, and men with options are able to fulfill that desire. The best women can do to counter this manly impulse is to be young and hot.

A reader named “repentant male” (*cough* girly man *cough*) commented on the article:

I thought I would add some thoughts from the opposite side.

I used to be a cheating husband.  I love my wife dearly, I love my kids, I get angry at sexist jokes, and have photos of my kids on the desk.

I have been married for 20+ years, but there has been a hole in my personal fulfillment.  I met somebody else who was extremely physical with me.  O.M.G It was like I was 19 again – My world changed from one where I was literally begging for physical intimacy – and driving my wife away by doing so, to one where my every need was more than fulfilled.

After 6 months, I decided that it was time to leave my wife of 20+ years.  in the end, I couldn’t do it – I confessed, and broke the relationship off with the other woman.

Was it entirely my wifes fault? no Was it entirely my fault? – no – it was a combination of factors.  My wife didn’t understand how important physical intimacy was to me, and I wasn’t communicating properly with her.

Long story short, lots of counseling later, we are both still together, and the physical side is getting better – it will never be as awesome as it was with the other woman, but that’s not the point.

So – Are you *sure* that you are meeting the needs of your partner?  You may not be.

Take heed, ladies. You have to earn a husband’s faithfulness. This woman was lucky; her husband was too beta to do the right thing for his happiness. Maybe you won’t be so lucky. The sexual market is a worldwide dominion of genitals, and marriage is no exemption from its eternal, unrelenting, remorseless barter.

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Cocktease Asks “What Am I Doing Wrong?”

I have this friend, a girl, who is a total attention whore. Fittingly, she would glow with pride at being called that. As a cute, young single girl without brat baggage and of slender proportions and flirtatious disposition, she usually has some beta or two wrapped around her finger at any given time. You could accurately describe her as an eternal ingenue. She is always complaining about meeting men, yet she hardly goes a day without a “date”, i.e. some man willing to do her a favor for the reward of a three minute makeout. But no sex. Never sex! Oh no, there is hardly a man good enough for THAT prize. One time, a bread pudding excuse of a man who had been on three dry dates with her over the course of six months drove an hour and a half from out of town to drive her to an appointment she had only a few blocks from where she lived. She didn’t want to spend the money on a cab. Naturally, when she called him she framed it as a “chance for me and you to get together and hang”. And just as naturally, he bit down on that stinky bait. I bet he furiously masturbated on the drive over with thoughts of what he fantasized would happen.

Yes, there really are girls like this, and yes there really are… ahem… “men” who fall for the shit girls like this pull.

If it isn’t obvious by now, this girl is the succubus that strikes fear, loathing and lust in the hearts of betas everywhere. She is your worst nightmare; the epitome of every self-entitled pedestaled princess bitch we talk about here at this exclusive Chateau. When Satan made the mold for the quintessential cockteasing attention whore, she poured out.

And yet I like her. She’s a lot of fun to be around. I dig her style. Since I’m not interested in her as a potential lover, her games have no effect on me. Her manipulations of men who chase after her is something I can observe from a third party distance, with raised eyebrow and gleeful smirk. She knows this, and of course it drives her to distraction around me. I may be the only man in her life, besides her long term ex-boyfriend, who calls her bluff and swats aside her shit tests. Thus, I have earned her trust and confidence.

While my instinctual sympathies lie with her smitten suckers suitors, I don’t blame her for playing them like puppets. If I were in her shoes, I would take advantage of those needy losers, too. I don’t care how cute a girl is, if she asks you to do some outrageous favor for her — like driving an hour and a half to chauffeur her to an appointment just because she asked — for no sex in return, you are a chump.

A mark.

A dupe.

A fool.

A beta.

In this day and age, it is amazing there are so many men who think that supplication is the magic key to her secret garden. The Chateau has been in business for over three years, and yet the tidal wave of betas who fail at the most elementary concepts of female sexual psychology continues rolling on, crushing hopes and dreams and blue balls like so many beachfront tiki bars.

So one day, Queen of the Cockteases asks me a question. She was hanging on my arm, partly drunk.

“I keep pushing men away. I find them, and go out with them, and then they disappear! Seriously, real question. What am I doing wrong?”

“I haven’t noticed any men disappearing. Didn’t some dude just buy you tickets to a play and invite you to his shore house?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, but that’s not something. I mean the guys I like.”

“Poor bastard.”

“Are you going to help me? I want so bad to be your friend. We can be good friends if you just try with me.”

“You’re a basketcase after a few Shirley Temples.” For a moment, I thought about going hardcore on her ego and edifying her with the lessons gleaned from evo psych and game, but I was tired and not in the mood to talk much. Plus, I doubted it would register. I kept it light instead. “Stop going up to men. Let them come to you.”

“Why? If I like a guy I want to meet him.”

“Yeah, that’s great, but guys like to chase. If you approach them first, they will downgrade you. We give more value to girls who play a little coy.”

“And if he doesn’t approach me?”

“Suck it up. You can’t have every man in the world. Look, most likely you are approaching the top guys, the ones you think are the best. A guy like that has options. All he sees is a chick who has just showed she really likes him, which means sex is only a few drinks away. But you’re a major cocktease, so when they realize that it isn’t happening, they bolt.”

“Hey, I’m not that kind of girl.”

“We all know that. But they don’t. If a guy comes up to you first, he’s more likely to stick around putting up with your bullshit. But then you have the problem of wanting guys to chase you, but only respecting guys who don’t. That’s why you go up to them first and flirt like crazy. If the guy approaches you, you think he’s not worthy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you only get horny for guys you have to chase. You’re the classic example of a girl who wants what she can’t have.”

“That’s not true. I don’t waste my time with guys who don’t like me.”

“I can tell you really need an asshole in your life.”

Communication on the subject was done by that point. On certain matters, a woman’s brain simply can’t process in any internally logical way the implications of the discussion. Her biosocial female imperative is one of those matters. Try it some time. Explain to a girl why she behaves the way she does with men and watch as her eyes glaze over with incomprehension or she lashes out in fury at you for rattling the peace of her inner hamster sanctum. You can get girls to nod in agreement with you, as long as you don’t make them the subject of your elucidation. Girls have a habit of perceiving conversations about abstractions personally, and won’t abide finger pointing in their direction. The solution is to explain human social dynamics in terms that will spare her ego.

A cocktease is an older term for an attention whore. They are one and the same psychologically; only the details of execution differ. The cocktease’s ideal man would be someone she approaches first, but who doesn’t flirt back. He just stands there being amused by her antics, making her work harder and harder for his attention, until his value is outsized in her mind. One step forward, two steps back, is his motto for dealing with cockteases. And then when the time is ripe, he pushes hard for the close, leaving her little head space to rationalize yet another coquettish escape.

Unfortunately, the Western world is full of chauffeuring betas pumping princess egos the land over. For men in the know, like you and me and hopefully the rest of the readers of this site, this means the girls we meet have been pre-primed to act like selfish, self-loving brats. These special snowflakes and their boot-licking beta enablers both are our insufferable foes. Chastise the one and you must chastise the other. Nothing of worth operates in a vacuum.

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Derisive Comment Of The Month

This one comes from a mischief maker named “Lexus Liberal” who commented on a Washington City Paper article about the poor performance of the Sidwell Friends’ football team. Sidwell Friends is a private school where Presidents send their kids to be fast tracked for future ruling class positions. The Obamas are the latest example.

I dare say, sport, you seem to have inflamed my upper NW chums more than a Bush/Cheney sticker on a Hummer 2!

The pursuit of sport is not something we put as much emphasis on here at Sidwell Friends – it’s such a vulgar enterprise. My own father wasn’t so enlightened – he loved baseball, hunting and other antiquated male pastimes, whereas I celebrate opera, gardening and appeasing my angry, Prius-driving wife.

While my passivity and latent homosexuality may negatively impact my son’s performance on the football field, I am confident it will prepare him well for a life of NPR, canvas totes, and garden parties featuring locavore cuisine.

Best,

L.L.

Pitch perfect. Maybe L.L. is a Chateau reader? Congratulations, L.L., you have earned a Key to the Chateau. Pick up your designated cat o’ nine tails at the door.

sapere flagellum.

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